Snap Her Up
by Adelled
Summary: How did Stan decide to hire Mary Shannon for WITSEC?


Title: Snap Her Up

Summary: How did Stan decide hire Mary Shannon for WITSEC?

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

A/N: Let us return to the Marshall, Stan and Mary of yesteryear, when Mary met Marshall. What happened between Marshall's demand that Stan "snap her up" and the decision to hire Mary?

IPS***IPS*** IPS***IPS*** IPS***IPS*** IPS***IPS*** IPS***IPS***

Albuquerque WITSEC office 2003

Marshall: "Stan, I'm telling you. Snap her up."

Stan: "Is this some kind of Stockholm Syndrome?"

Marshall shook his head impatiently. To his left he can see Marshal Shannon pace, watching the two men. Her motions are swift, sharp. Marshall thought she might have pulled her pony tail too tight. It would explain the pained expression on her face.

"When she leaves, we'll talk." Had three days with the female marshal driven Marshall over the edge? Stan had seldom seen his senior Inspector so passionate, so eager. Stan lowered his head, thinking of his own entanglements with women. Marshal Shannon didn't bother with the niceties. Her behavior was insensitive at best, crude at worst. Stan was no expert on beauty products, but even he could tell she didn't need them. She was a beautiful, angry woman with a gun. A woman who had ignited Marshall's passion. Stan didn't think all that was caused by her work ethic, or the magic she had worked with Marshall's witnesses.

Mary had been prowling like a caged animal. She watched Marshal Marshall and Chief McQueen. She knew were talking about her. She didn't like it. The Fugitive Task Force was rough and tough and straightforward. Find them, bust them, send back to prison. The humps they pursued were guilty. There was no Miranda warning, no being careful with the evidence. There was just the perp and her. She loved the chase but loved snapping on the cuffs even more. It was easy to measure a job well done. Did you get the perp or not? Simple. Done.

Her capture record kept her employed, even though her fellow marshals didn't like her. She wasn't a go along get along kind of gal. She was inventive, off the wall, and damn effective. She was all business, all the time, willing to do much more than keep up with the boys. The 'boys' didn't like it.

After having explored every inch of the WITSEC office atop the Sunshine Building, Mary was done waiting. She approached Marshall and Stan. "Hey," she addressed them as politely. "I'm going to go. My flight doesn't leave till tomorrow evening. I can come back tomorrow." She looked to the Chief for confirmation that there was a reason to return. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be there tomorrow, but McQueen was a Chief Inspector. He deserved some respect. She could give him that.

"Tomorrow," Stan harrumphed. "Yes. That would work. See you at 9, marshal?"

"Sure," she agreed. "9 a.m." she repeated. "I'll see myself out." She nodded smartly to the tall drink of water and the short bald man with the frumpy suit, and strode to the security gate.

"Marshall, my office," Stan ordered.

Stan sat behind his desk, rummaging through a stack of file folders. Marshall sat in Stan's visitor chair, waiting. Stan had told him that Mary's current Chief had offered her to other marshal offices. She was good on the job, but there was no interest.

"Here's her file." Stan handed a thick manila folder to Marshall. "It doesn't leave this office," he warned. "Read it. All of it. Then tell me if you want Marshal Shannon as a WITSEC Inspector."

Marshall took the folder and fanned the contents. "There's a lot here Stan. This will take time."

"Yeah, well, I'm not going anywhere." Stan gestured to the stack of papers on his desk. "Take your time."

Both men understood the importance of this decision. The 2003 Albuquerque WITSEC office had been downsized almost out of existence. Stan used to have three times as many Inspectors handling half the witnesses Marshall had now. Stan pitched in where he could. He kept many of his old witnesses, keeping tabs on them, visiting from time to time. And he did all the budget records, official files, performance evaluations as well as requisitioning office supplies. Days like today he felt as if he was drowning in paper.

With just Marshall and Stan in the office it was quiet enough to hear the electric clock on the wall hum. Marshall started at the front of Mary's file and read every evaluation, every report, every fitness and weapon certification in it.

Mary hadn't been exaggerating when she said bank robbery was the family business. Her father, James Shannon, had been on the FBI's most wanted list for almost 20 years. If his daughter knew half as much about finding as her father did about hiding, she was a hell of a hunter. Marshall was impressed by the number of felons and fugitives Mary had captured with little or no back up.

Stan looked up when Marshall puffed his cheeks and blew. "It's a wonder she's not dead."

"Yeah, I got that. She doesn't play well with others. Her luck's gonna run out one day."

"But it's not all luck Stan. Did you read any of the capture reports? She can think on her feet in situations where most men would freeze. Like, like,..." Marshall was so excited he was at a loss for words. Almost.

"What she did today, with Claudia and Henry. I wasn't getting through to Henry. Nothing I said had an impact. Claudia was upset, crying. I focused on her. It was Mary who noticed Henry had left the room. It was Mary who figured he'd be at the nearest pay phone, and knew where that was. It was Mary who terminated the call that could have ended his life. She grabbed Henry and shook him like a wet dog. She got in his face. She got through to him when I couldn't. She made him see what WITSEC could mean to him and Claudia."

"Marshall," Stan protested. "She's so,...so..."

"Loud, crude, assertive, rude, negative, and a knockout in the looks department. All negative qualities, things that breed failure. But Mary has drive, zeal. I believe she's the yin to my yang. Where I am accepting, encouraging, patient, Mary is cynical, discouraging and brash. The witnesses that don't get it when I 'explain' things to them will respond when Mary does. Look at Henry and Claudia. Ask them. They'll tell you what Mary did for them."

"Yelling isn't my style. Although working with Mary these past three days has gotten me in touch with my inner shouter," he admitted sheepishly.

"You've had words?" Stan knew a partnership that started out quarreling wouldn't last.

"You could call it that. She's cynical and suspicious. Not a bad thing when you're dealing with criminals. She's honest, even if her responses are disguised by sarcasm." After a few days with Mary, Marshall knew her insults weren't personal. She spewed them automatically, a habit ingrained by years of practice at keeping everyone removed from her personal life.

Stan wasn't joking when he asked Marshall if he was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. Marshall was great to have as an Inspector. He knew his job inside and out. He was considerate, thorough. And a hell of a shot. He never caused trouble. Stan was afraid that Marshall would be chewed up and spit out by Mary Shannon. "Can you take working with her? She's so..." he paused looking for the word Marshall had used, "abrasive."

Marshall wasn't done. "Look at her shooting scores. Yes, aiming at a paper target on the range is nothing like firing your weapon in public. Her scores are good. Almost as good as mine, and I doubt that she grew up with six guns and shotguns like I did."

"Did you read the complaints filed by her fellow marshals?" Stan had been through her file several times, trying to find what Marshall saw in the FTF marshal.

"Yes, I did, Chief. Read between the lines," he insisted. Those guys are jealous. She hurt their pride. Mary Shannon, a woman, did the job better than they did. That's what I read."

"Me too," Stan admitted. "Me too." Although his word agreed, his head nodded no. "I know sour grapes when I see them. I know the marshals who got those papers in her file." Stan stared at his desk top as though the answer was there. "They're not the sharpest knives in the drawer." He looked at Marshall and tilted his head knowingly.

He saw hope and determination in his senior Inspector. "All right. I'll make her an offer tomorrow. I hope you know what you're doing."

"I'm sure about this. You'll see Stan." Marshall smiled at his Chief. He seldom asked Stan for anything, but this was big. It could change a lot of things at the WITSEC office.

Stan harrumphed as he took the file from Marshall. "Be careful what you wish for."


End file.
